


Dear Padfoot,

by siriuslymoony



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 06:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17381051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriuslymoony/pseuds/siriuslymoony
Summary: One Remus Lupin, drowning in grief, writes a letter to one Sirius Black.November, 1981





	Dear Padfoot,

Dear Padfoot,

I remember Lily told Dorcas to do this after Marlene was killed, said it might help. I figured it couldn’t do any harm at this point, so here goes.

First of all, I am so, so angry with you, it is all I can feel. I don’t think my mind has comprehended yet what our lives have become. Three of your friends are dead. Bloody fucking hell Sirius, I

 

\-----

 

You missed your best mates funeral.  
I almost did too, actually.  
Bad moon as you can imagine, just three days before. I knew it’d be bad, but this was beyond anything I can remember from my childhood. The wolf hadn’t been alone in five years and it nearly tore itself apart. I think a part of me wanted to let it. Fuck Sirius… I will never forgive you for what you did, but I’ve got no one else to talk to. And it’s not as if I’m ever going to get the chance to tell you that, so here it is.

As I've said, I am extraordinarily angry, to the point where everything seems hopeless, for real this time. Yet I can feel it in my chest, there’s a part of that anger that isn't directed at you. I’m finding myself more and more angry that I didn’t stop you from doing what you did. I’m angry that something drove you to take those actions. Something in your life.

I’m angry that my last words to you were “shut the damn door when you leave”.

The thing I am most angry about though, is that, after everything, Sirius Black, I miss you. It makes me want to punch a wall until my knuckles are raw and bloody, but it is the truth. It’s all boiling up inside me, the fear, the anger, the pain, most of all. Every inch of my body aches; from the moon, yes, but mostly from what my life has become. Sometimes it is too heavy to bear, and when I sit on the bathroom floor, clutching the cold porcelain, head spinning with the fresh taste of sick in my mouth, you are the only one that can pull me out my own mind. But you are also the one who carved and constructed this hell for me, every piece of it so _carefully_ , that every way I turn, you are there, as the devil or as my saving grace, and I find myself blindly turning circles in my guilt and burning loneliness.  
Do you see my dilemma?

I’m afraid you’ve destroyed my life. Perhaps it is a selfish thought, considering people are dead, but there’s no one left to judge me. I’ve got no one left to care for or worry about, and certainly no one left to worry about me.  
You were always very good at that.  
Maybe that was it. Maybe it was that you were always worrying about me and I didn’t pay enough attention to you. It frustrates me that I will never know the truth, but I’m not sure what I’d do if I saw you right now, so maybe it’s for the best.

I still don’t understand why you did what you did, I think it’s safe to assume I never will, so I’m going to say what’s on my mind because I need some sort of closure, and I’m afraid no one will be able to give me that at this point but me.

I’m sorry.  
I’m so fucking sorry for everything and I miss you terribly.  
But if I ever see you again, I may just kill you.

Unfortunately yours,  
Remus


End file.
